


moving away yet closer

by ninanna



Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: Future Fic, Introspection, M/M, Pining, Post-Break Up, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-26
Updated: 2016-09-26
Packaged: 2018-08-17 08:50:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,332
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8137862
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ninanna/pseuds/ninanna
Summary: Coping with loss, unbought souvenirs, unnecessary memories, stubborn hope, between cities and across multiple timezones, through expensive views, cheap fried rice, and a lot of work, only for a piece of 'borrowed' clothing to tip everything down.





	

**Author's Note:**

> [“yes, i know this is your sweatshirt and that we broke up five months ago but it’s really comfy okay. i totally don’t wear it because like it still smells like you or is the only thing that even remotely feels like home since i moved out. pfft. absolutely not.” AU](https://ninannarambling.tumblr.com/post/137368093918/post-breakup-aus)

It hits him in Oslo merely 6 days after the Event.

 

As always, he is at the airport, past the security, exactly 45 minutes to the boarding of his flight. The first thing he does, as always, is to enter the first souvenir shop he comes across, walk to the rack with fridge magnets so he can choose the least kitsch one possible to buy. But unlike always, he does not need to buy them anymore. It is only when his eyes are analysing aesthetic qualities or lack thereof that he remembers. There is nobody to buy one for. No fridge full of ugly magnets from around the world to put them on.

 

He stomps out of the shop and unlike always, does not bother looking around the shops for gifts or bizarre local specialities, opting to sit tightly near the designated gate and read Kant.

 

Kant is good when he is upset.

 

\--

 

There's a peculiar kind of emptiness after loss of someone who is still alive. It is not like losing someone to death or unknown; you know that they still are breathing somewhere, they still exist but just not in the same way as they did only days ago. It is bewildering and confusing to mind; your most intimate is simply no more. All things shared—what is their value now? Do memories and experiences become invalidated too after separation? Do feelings disappear magically as though they were never there to begin with? Won't the person's skin feel the same any longer or the affectionate names you give them suddenly sound insincere now?

 

Many many years ago it must have been easier, he surmises. Loss of any kind was more manageable back then. Now with twenty-four hour seven-days self-submitted surveillance everywhere, the loss is constantly reminding itself and one keeps senselessly trying to step onto thin air. Again and again and again like a very clumsy swimmer, mistaking water for ground and losing balance, drowning a little before gaining the control back. That's what he supposes at least; he has never had such an accident in the sea as he has never been clumsy at any sport in his whole life and that includes swimming.

 

Emotions, unfortunately do not constitute a sport.

 

\--

 

He turns off the notifications on his phone at first but then he ends up checking his phone every five minutes for new notifications, specifically if 'Roy G. Biv' has tweeted anything new.

 

After two days of minimal sleep and curious side-eyes from his subordinates, he turns the notifications back on.

 

'Roy G. Biv' gets a new haircut and posts the picture. Akashi decides it looks very uncouth.

 

\--

 

It is in the second month that he gets stuck in an elevator. He almost loses it but not really because he always carries some Xanax with him. He has signal but he does not call anyone because he does not have anyone to call. He has to deal with his anxiety by himself.

 

“Are you okay?” his new 'personal administrative assistant' asks and he bitterly smiles recalling those three words being spoken in a caring whisper every time his hands got sweaty and his posture frozen. He sighs.

 

“Yes, I'm okay.”

 

Because he is always okay, after all, isn't he?

 

\--

 

'Roy G. Biv's avatar on both twitter and whatsapp changes. It is a candid shot taken when he's looking at something opposite to the camera, only side of his face visible. It is shot in the park near their flat and he is talking with someone whom Akashi can guess with about 89% of accuracy, and his right arm is slightly stretched because he is scratching his nape, and he is starting to tan again. There is bright sun and azure sky in the picture and his hair is the same deep black albeit in a sillier cut.

 

Akashi is not sure what hurts the most; how normal the picture feels—just another scene from many moments shared together—or the fact that there's a bit of muscle showing off, bulged on his bare arm and thus what such a hint may entail...

 

After four minutes and thirty-eight seconds spent staring at the photograph, Akashi closes it and makes an appointment with his own hairdresser.

 

\--

 

“Your hair looks nice!” Momoi smiles but Akashi can read the subtext.

 

“Thanks.”

 

Momoi takes him to his favourite sushi bar, Blue Ribbon on the 58th and even fights with him for the bill, which he finally resigns with a smile only because it's Momoi.

 

“You should come to New York more often you know. I think you fit this city the best after Tokyo.”

 

Akashi hums. It is probably true; New York is the one city he has had the most fun in after Tokyo even if he lived there for only eight months. Something tugs in his heart though and old conversations slowly float up like innocent leaves thrown into the sea, and in spite of their lovely contents, now, a few years later they do not seem innocent at all and they surely do not feel lovely either. He only feels cold at the thought of 'home' and it's summer.

 

“Maybe you're right,” he says. Maybe he should move again.

 

\--

 

He almost has a one night stand the night he returns from New York. Everything screams good opportunity: Akashi knows the person but he does not know Akashi and hence Akashi can take the necessary precautions for them to never meet again, and he is leaving the next day to Paris, and he is tall, and he is of athletic build, and he has black hair, and he is very intent and desirous. He kisses well, too. Cherry on top.

 

Akashi still leaves him at the Uber they took together, abruptly making an excuse of an urgent work matter and get off the ride. It is executed so flawlessly too that his obvious lie is believed without any suspicion. Instead of going back to his flat he checks in to Fairmont Pacific Rim. Chairman's Suit is not available to his displeasure so he opts for the 'Prime Minister Suit' wondering all the while who came up with such awfully inspiring names. After brushing his teeth for eleven times, he orders cheap takeout from his favourite place. He would prefer to cook but there is no kitchen in the suit, so he silently watches the harbour from his overpriced, oversized room waiting for that holy plastic container of fried rice to arrive, desperately trying not to hate himself.

 

\--

 

In the next two weeks he works a total of 81 hours per week and closes two very important business deals. His father sends an email of commendation and how he should keep at this. He replies humbly, giving his thanks as expected from him.

 

Indifference is thick, sleep is little, and muscle pain is huge but he forgets to hate himself a bit and decides that's good. This is indeed what he should do, he decides; just forget everything and work, work, work. He's very good at that—at work. He always been so destructively so.

 

\--

 

“You don't sound well.”

 

Even if he is not as unstable as he once was, there are still very, very few people on earth who would dare say that to him directly. Kuroko is the second person on that list and Akashi treasures him for that.

 

“I'm okay.”

 

“You sure?”

 

He chuckles. “It has been constantly cloudy and rainy. Such a weather is not exactly good for one's mood.”

 

“You lived in England for two years.”

 

“True. Vancouver is quite a bit more rainy though.”

 

“You could always come down here?”

 

He has been to LA only twice after his sudden move out of the country and both had been for work and in both he had not visited a single place that does not have to do with work, spending less than 24 hours in the city each time.

 

“Thanks but I don't really have any business in LA these days... I have a meeting in December but I'll leave right after for Japan for Christmas and New Year's. So I don't think I'll be staying more than a day.”

 

He doesn't have a family to spend New Year's with this year, after all. Maybe he will never have one again. Likely.

 

“Well... I meant just for fun?”

 

“It is not really in my plans.”

 

The pause. The terrible, treacherous pause that tells so much and happens still often enough to grate on Akashi's nerves. He is used to knowing more than others while conversing, and hence has become proficient ignoring such foreknowledge from being annoying. But now it is different because every other speaker he shares these silences with also knows. There is a wordless conversation that happens right to the heart of the matter, dissecting his chest while he is still breathing; in the quiet, they say what is unsaid and he accepts the truth with disquiet. This elephant that tramples over him again and again and again.

 

“When was the last time you took a vacation?”

 

That is a question he has heard way too many times but he suppresses most of the previous instances since they relate to mostly happy memories and a few sad ones of unnecessary fights but now even happy memories are not happy and all memories have become very unnecessary. He sighs. “It has been rather long.”

 

It has and a vacation does not sound very bad, actually. Problem is where and also how to turn off his brain during it. He has an upcoming meeting in San Francisco regarding the Twitter stock actually; it is cold this time of the year but not colder than Vancouver and definitely no rain.

 

“You should seriously think about it. Shouldn't work yourself to death.”

 

He can't help remember a specific moment when those words were being said to him while calloused hands massaged his shoulders. He shakes his head; a vacation is very much needed. A spa treatment would be good. Hiking in the Muir Woods to think and let go.

 

“I do have a meeting in San Francisco soon...”

 

“That sounds like an opportunity. You've always liked it there better.”

 

“It feels calmer.”

 

Maybe he should've opted for San Francisco instead of Vancouver, he wonders briefly. There's a tea festival a couple days after the scheduled meeting. He wasn't planning to extend his trip to check it out and it's not a grand event so missing wasn't a big deal but it may be a good opportunity to take some time off.

 

“Hmm... I had thought it's because it has better tea.” Kuroko says, ever the wise.

 

\--

 

There's a woman who is very clearly afraid of flying. It is also very clearly her first time flying business class. He tests the water by a small helping gesture: showing her how to do the seat adjustment. They strike up a conversation easily; she is a newly hired journalist and it is her first time flying business, indeed. She does not like flying. She is smart and intellectual. It is a small talk but an engaging one that they continue with tea. She knows her tea and coffee, certainly nice. He keeps her company until she feels sleepy enough, meds she previously took kicking in finally. It is a short flight by his standards and he only wakes her up after they have landed. She gives him a business card and he laments her that he doesn't have one with him.

 

Given the soft interest in her eyes, he'd prefer not to offer misplaced hope.

 

\--

 

Twitter board meetings go well and he spends the first afternoon of his last day of work before vacation just idly walking around Chinatown. Peace settles in him, despite the aching of his feet, having forgotten the toil of walking up and down, up and down the hill—the ocean blinks at the end of the road now and then, suddenly appearing out of nowhere, and it's a soothing balm enough. After a large dinner he takes a cab to the waterfront and watches the sunset.

 

It's beautiful.

 

\--

 

'Out of Office' notice is set on the Outlook. His work phone is on vibrate and notifications turned off. Weather app announces a cool day with wind so wears the cosiest thing he has in his luggage and a pair of wool sweatpants. He has never been good with the cold and hence even grabs a knit scarf, looking more ready to winter than September, alas, he is on holiday and is not planning to risk any chance of an odd flu.

 

Day starts nice with a long brunch and profound read—he sends a message to Kuroko recommending the anthology of short stories he's been enjoying so much. He takes an hour visiting a new exhibit afterwards and then heads to Fort Mason for the festival. Ocean air does him well, promising him things anew and a soul serene. He listens to some speakers and even chit-chats with a farmer who is growing herbs locally. Market is livelier than he thought and there's even a ginger ale vendor. It is a bit surprising and he wonders what sort of people would opt for ginger ale in a tea event until he comes eye to eye with one such person standing in line.

 

Schooling his expression to perfection and to never let anything slip unless desired is something Akashi has learnt and honed a long time ago. It is an essential skill for war and business, which are pretty much synonyms. It is harder, he finds, in other contexts to manage this. Especially in this context. Specifically in the context of this person who has also realised his immediate existence. Akashi is certain, actually, that before even his guards kicked in, his face had already contorted to a peculiar bemusement. His only relief is the fact that face looking at him is similarly caught unready, stuck in open awe, even gaping a little.

 

It would be rude and childish to run away. So he does not even if a part of him desperately wants to and he would both want to kiss and kill that part. Akashi Seijuro does not forfeit, does not flee.

 

“Nijimura-san.”

 

This is where the hardship first strikes. In appearance it is almost instant but inside, it takes a lot of calculation and effort to pronounce that single word and even after uttering, it feels incredibly alien. How many years has it been since he stopped calling Shuzo like that.

 

“Sei—Akashi. Hi.”

 

Shuzo scratches his jaw and pads closer.

 

“How are you?” he asks, which Akashi knew he would ask and hence did not ask lest they would ask it at once and it would feel even more like the most ridiculous of romcoms.

 

“I'm fine,” Akashi smiles, professional and very natural-looking, “how have you been senpai?”

 

Shuzo clears his throat as if something has been stuck there.

 

“I'm good.”

 

Silence. It is even worse and more awkward when it is with the person of the matter and Akashi is about to break it with some good small talk line when Shuzo draws his eyebrows together and looks at him.

 

“Is something wrong?”

 

“No... just... uh. You doing well?”

 

“Yes, I'm doing very well.”

 

It is a bit biting, if he is being honest, he would rather not be. He hates how it leaked—he didn't mean it to. He wants to be polite and distanced but not too distant with Nijimura Shuzo. Not angry. Not mean. Shuzo doesn't deserve those.

 

“There are huge black circles around your eyes.” Shuzo says with that authoritative tone he has always used that's almost scolding but actually caring—aggressively caring—and Akashi has to remind himself that it is not part of 'always' any longer. Has to remind him that this is clumsiness or perhaps a habit still not fully faded on Shuzo's part. But it will. It will, right?

 

“Work has been busy.”

 

“And of course you're on Caesar Akashi mode, gotta conquer 'em all.”

 

Like all old jokes between them—and especially now because he has missed all of them so much despite his better judgement—it makes him chuckle.

 

“Seriously though,” Shuzo says, “take care. Don't work yourself to death.”

 

Akashi is about to reply when Shuzo's eyes wander on Akashi again and Akashi has to pause. A pause of a few milliseconds and he deciphers it. The most horrifying coincidence of it all dawns on him like a glorious sun and he wishes he had magical powers as some people conspire that he does because then he could teleport himself far far away.

 

“I will ensure not to die,” he says, smiling, professional again, easygoing in tone, perfectly hiding the realisation he just had.

 

“How's everything other than work?” Shuzo asks, moving away a bit from the crowd to the side and Akashi obliges, following him. “It's alright. Not much beyond work I must admit. It really has been very busy.”

 

“How's Vancouver?”

 

Bloody hell. Uselessly dreary. A lot more boring than middle of nowhere Akase. Why did he even have to remember Akase? Now he will also remember the hikes they took there.

 

“It's fine. Rainier than here and cooler. There are some nice Korean restaurants though.”

 

Because there is absolutely no reason for him to hate Vancouver and he knows why he hates Vancouver and it is so inept that he cannot acknowledge its existence, let alone clearly think of it or pronounce it.

 

“Cool I guess but most importantly: any good ramen places?”

 

“We actually have Santouka.”

 

“Seriously?”

 

“Yeah, it's not as good though.”

 

“Hmm really?”

 

“You don't trust me?”

 

“Well you are not exactly known for your ramen expertise.”

 

“I beg your pardon, I've had a very good teacher.”

 

For years too. So many years, he doesn't add. Shuzo huffs in amusement, his arms folded over his chest loosen, and he looks at Akashi with that small smile of his, infallibly endearing, and is about to say something but then stops. The pause.

 

Not that Akashi blames him; it is a huge elephant that they are trying to traverse around. The fact that Shuzo even tries to, rather than slap Akashi with it is unfathomable...

 

Shuzo sighs and tries again; “I'm glad you got good ramen. That's what matters in a city.”

 

“I would go for affordable housing and good infrastructure, but yes, that too.”

 

“Affordable housing, says the young master.”

 

“I am not exactly a squanderer.”

 

“You're not. You also once bought a gold duck.”

 

“It was a joke.” Akashi protests cordially and does not add that it was a small figurine, hence didn't cost that much, and it was Shuuzou's birthday, and Akashi still has it because he secretly took it with him—stealing stuff from his own home to... his own apartment. Such nobility.

 

“Yeah well—“ Shuzo steps closer to let someone pass and their bodies almost touch, “you—you have expensive tastes.”

 

It is true but unrelated; they both know 'duck' wasn't about Akashi's artistic tastes that can be pricey. The pause crawls again and Akashi decides to kill it for good, even if chit-chat with Shuzo after so many weeks feels good, time to quit it and go back and let the elephant die in—

 

“Why,” Shuzo sighs, “why are you wearing that?”

 

Akashi gulps softly.

 

“It is comfortable?”

 

“Seijuro.”

 

“It really is comfortable.”

 

“That I have no doubt but.”

 

“I didn't intentionally put it in my baggage when I left, if that is what you are asking.”

 

“No—that's—of course not. I am just...”

 

“It is always chilly here so I packed accordingly. It's warm.”

 

“I know. I know.”

 

“Then?”

 

“I... I don't know. It's weird.”

 

“I cannot deny that. It is awkward and I would not have worn it if I knew you'd be here.”

 

“...you didn't? You didn't know I'd be here?”

 

“How would I know?”

 

“I don't know! You just manage to know things. Brain magic. ESP”

 

“Shuzo, I am not an esper.”

 

“Your brain is almost esper level though.”

 

“Says the man doing a PhD in UCLA.”

 

“Come on. It's not the same.”

 

“I did not plan meeting you here if that is what you are suggesting.”

 

“How would we then? What on—and even with you wearing—“

 

“I have a quarterly meeting with Twitter executives because I hold a substantial amount of their stock. If you remember. I visit San Francisco regularly for it, since last year.”

 

Last year. That is before the Event. That is before he moved out. Shuzo's face sinks a little.

 

“Yes.” He says, seems thoughtful and lost at once.

 

“Why are you in a tea festival?”

 

“I was just... why are you wearing my sweatshirt?”

 

“You're deflecting.”

 

“You're the one deflecting. Are you really trying to tell me that you go about your free days wearing a five years old weary UCLA hoodie that is two sizes too large?!”

 

Shuzo's tone rises slightly and a few strangers around them glance suspiciously. Akashi is not perturbed. He sighs and closes his eyes.

 

“It is cosy.” He repeats and Shuzo is opening his mouth so he raises his hand to make him stop. He glares as he enunciates. “It is cosy. I feel at home. I feel calm. It helps with the GAD too.” He has also been wearing it at least twice a week for quite a few months now but Shuzo doesn't have to know that bit.

 

Shuzo stares at him unblinking for three whole seconds and then covers his face with his hands.

 

“Why are you hiding? I thought you wanted to hear those exact words.” Akashi presses on. He does not want to be angry Why can he not manage to be not angry. This is how they came to this point too.

 

“I...”

 

“You, what?”

 

“You cut your hair.”

 

“You cut your hair too.”

 

“Tatsuya cut a piece of it on a dare.”

 

“And you let him live?”

 

“With some damage.”

 

“He wanted you to move on.”

 

“I know.”

 

“Good.”

 

“Good what?”

 

“Good that you know.”

 

“I'm sorry.”

 

“For what?”

 

“For making you say it.”

 

“It's alright.” Akashi smiles at Shuzo's pout; how interesting that a usual sight he tried so diligently to forget seems like a miracle that he has never witnessed before. “It is nice to see you being wilful and selfish sometimes. It's rare.”

 

“Only you'd think so.”

 

“Everyone thinks so. That's why you attract the worst kohai. Too caring.”

 

“Me? Caring?”

 

“Yes and stop scratching your nape, you'll cause a rash there.”

 

Shuzo laughs and his phone rings. It is a ringtone that Akashi still knows full well. The one that Nijimura Shuzo will take at all costs, any time, anywhere: his mother.

 

“One second,” Shuzo says, knowing that Akashi knows, and moves a couple feet away, talking to his mum in the son voice he reserves only for her. Suddenly the ocean breeze is too much for Akashi and he swiftly leaves. He does not look back but his hands clench into fists all the way back. Not because of anger, though.

 

\--

 

He shuts his personal phone off, goes back to the hotel, changes his clothes, checks out of the hotel, and takes the next available flight back to Vancouver.

 

Shuzo has always had a hard time saying “no” to Akashi and Akashi does not trust himself to not push for a second chance only to be given it in pity. He can handle anything, but pity.

 

Next two days of his so-called vacation are spent at home watching documentaries, drinking tea, and playing shogi against himself. He loses all of them.

 

\--

 

It is in the middle of a revenue projections meeting that he finds what he has to do. How to handle the 'sweater' became a bane of his existence for the last week and now he knows. Back to back meetings all morning disallow him from pursuing the new plan but once it's lunch time he's ready to execute it. His admin asks if he's sure he'd like to do the shipment himself and he confirms. This is one shipment he has to give by his own hands to the DHL.

 

He even prepares the package himself; it looks neater than the standard ones the company makes, he thinks. He hopes Shuzo won't read into it. Won't read into any of it.

 

In the end, itt's just a sweater.

 

\--

 

Contrary to what some say, October is perfect for trekking. Spending time in the nature, breathing fresh air, and allowing himself to ponder help Akashi a lot. It is taxing on his limbs, however, and by the time he makes it home after a long ride, it is already a pitch black 8:38 PM. When the elevator 'dings' at his floor and he prepares the entry card, the last person he expects to find at his doorstep is Nijimura Shuzo. Scowling and playing a mobile game on the phone, sitting in front of the door like a grumpy, lazy guard.

 

“Shuzo?”

 

Shuzo jumps in his spot a little, clutching to the backpack on his lap.

 

“Hey.” Shuzo says at first. Then adds, “Long day huh?”

 

“Kind of.”

 

They share a look and Akashi decides not to ask “why”--not yet. He moves to slide the smart card into the slot and let the automatic door open. Shuzo gets up and dusts off his clothes.

 

“Nice place.” He mumbles as they enter and Akashi thanks, putting the card back into his wallet and dropping his wallet on the coffee table. He walks to the kitchen to wash his hands and take a glass of water. He needs it. Maybe something stronger than water. Shuzo is awkwardly standing in the middle of his living room.

 

Nijimura Shuzo. His first and last and possible the only true—Nijimura Shuzo. In his living room in Vancouver.

 

Akashi finishes drinking the full glass of water and puts the empty glass on kitchen counter. He removes his coat and hangs it over a nearby chair. Despite avoiding eye contact, he knows Shuzo has been staring at him. Being under microscope is not something he likes. Shuzo knows this. He is also not doing it deliberately. Akashi knows this.

 

Finally, he wraps his arms around himself, feeling unrealistically cold and exposed, and leans back on the kitchen island that divides the cooking and dining area from the living room.

 

He doesn't ask why, he doesn't even utter a word but Shuzo starts anyway. Starts with a loud sigh. Shrugs.

 

“I don't like it.”

 

“I'm sorry?”

 

“This place. There isn't a single picture anywhere. You don't have your tea things around. No calligraphy on any of the walls. All the furniture probably came with the place—it is not your style at all. And there's a fluffy rug of all things.”

 

“A fluffy rug. The true deal breaker.” Akashi nods.

 

Shuzo rubs his eyes.

 

“I can't do this.”

 

“Can't do what?”

 

“This.” Shuzo moves his head to point to... general vicinity. “All of this. What I'm doing. What you're doing. What we have been doing now for months.” He unzips his bag with enough willpower to lead an army and pulls out a wrinkled, old hoodie.

 

“Oh.”

 

“Take it back.” Shuzo says, stretching his arm up in the arm and offering the clothing with one hand. It looks strange. There is a little more than three steps between them. Akashi lingers on his spot.

 

“It's alright.” He says and he means it. It is genuine and Shuzo knows this too, for Nijimura Shuzo is perhaps the only person on planet Earth who has learnt to read what's genuine and not when it comes to Akashi. Only person who cared enough to learn.

 

“No.” Shuzo is adamant and takes a step closer, hoodie still dangling from his hand, half bunched. “Take it back.”

 

“You don't have to.” Akashi smiles; it isn't a happy smile but it isn't a broken one either. It is a sad but understanding smile. A very mature one that Akashi didn't know how to make years ago but learnt along the way, partially thanks to Shuzo, who now bites his lower lip, stubborn and distressed.

 

Shuzo drops his bag down and uses his newly freed hand to unzip his leather jacket. Inside he's wearing a thin t-shirt of one of the many failed bands Himuro formed over the years. Also a scarf. A particular one; dark coloured, striped with three white lines, the middle one a lot thicker, and a crest resting near one end.

 

Akashi drops his head back. Sometimes he can be awfully stupid. He feels terrible in such times—they are scarce but scary. Somehow, it is not fear or humiliation or hatred that grips him that moment. Unmistakably, it is relief. So much relief that it makes his knees weak, almost. The self-loathing, self-blaming, ever present voice inside tells him that he does not deserve this. He ignores that voice—euphoria is too big to pay attention to that voice, thankfully.

 

“Sei...” Shuzo says, scowling, “just take this, please?”

 

“Since you said the magic word.” Akashi murmurs and comes a step closer, grabbing the hoodie from his old and new and forever young flame's hand.

 

“This is embarrassing.”

 

“Is that so. I wonder, why are you wearing that?”

 

“Are we really gonna do this?”

 

“Are you telling me you of all people prefers wearing an old Oxford Queen's College scarf just to avoid frigid winds?”

 

“Okay. Fine. You know that time when I saved up for six months so that I could buy tickets for the UK and then we spent Christmas together and that was also when we first kissed? It was at night when we were walking back and after the kiss, you hid your face with the scarf because you were blushing and I thought I would never know if you hadn't done so. Because your face gets red anyway in slightest cold. Your ears and cheeks were already so pink that I wouldn't have realised... But I did and I thought how amazing it was that I could tell what you were feeling. How ridiculously giddy I felt to have grown so close to you and wished I would grow even closer and closer and damn... I wanted to kiss you again so much but I thought I would have to stop being so rude and insatiable and learn to behave like an adult because you already acted like a 30 years old CEO most of the time despite being barely an adult and I had to learn to deserve you.”

 

“You already had.”

 

“You think so? I don't know Sei. You remember how I got arrested for stealing a shopping cart with Tatsuya later that year?”

 

“It was for science though.”

 

“Yeah... so...”

 

“So...” Akashi doesn't have to search Shuzo's eyes. There is an invitation and it comes with uncertainty and he does not like uncertainty but he has struggled through many things he hated for Nijimura Shuzo. “So, would you like some tea?” He asks, hopeful.

 

“Yeah.” Shuzo nods, “Yeah, I think I would like some tea.”

 

“Good. I have some premium gyokuro. Are you hungry by the way?”

 

“Kind of. I had a late lunch.”

 

“Me too. There's nothing to eat beside confectionery for tea though.”

 

“That's not so bad for now. Do you want to go get ramen later?”

 

“Okay. After tea?”

 

“Yeah, after tea.”

 

Akashi smiles at the soft affection on Shuzo's face. Dissonance and doubt of it being gone fade away when it is here, so near, right before him. He turns back towards the kitchen and does not look back, but he knows that loving gaze lingers and it sets all his nerves at ease. They have successfully resolved a few knots and cleared a few thorns before. Maybe they can still. Maybe they can figure it out, after tea.

**Author's Note:**

> I wanted this to be up for nijiaka day but I have been busy... Also: only proofread twice--half of what I usually do. Also: I am not sure why I chose a post-break up AU but that prompt screamed nijiaka to me, somehow. Also: I am still not out of KnB or nijiaka hell and have no plans to ever be.


End file.
